


SPAM ROBOT CHALLENGE 2013!

by florahart



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: DUM-E gives it his best shot, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DUM-E overhears, misunderstands, and undertakes to compete on his own</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPAM ROBOT CHALLENGE 2013!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of months ago at the kinkmeme, to a prompt from someone who effed up their captcha response and therefore failed the spam robot challege, and thought there should be fic about that. I'm cleaning it up and filling it out a little here. Because this seems like a better choice than studying for my midterm tomorrow. >.>

DUM-E considered the matter carefully. He always considered things carefully, because he wasn't very smart, and he didn't like to look sillier than absolutely necessary, so it took him 237 seconds to reach a decision.

When DUM-E had reached a decision, he usually acted quickly because he was aware that his careful considering time was greater than the time in which Father usually required a response, so he did not stop to check his findings with JARVIS (or anyone else). Instead, he accessed the supply and maintenance logs, inserted a low-level parts request, and routed it to the household ordering queue. 

He was not smart, but since his needs were sometimes unforeseen, he had the right to order himself supplies, and as this was, per his research, a cheap and undemanding item, he did not feel overzealous in ordering ten boxes. In addition, he felt good about taking steps on his own to generate his own project with no direction from Father.

He also did not see any reason not to set an alert for the arrival of the boxes, nor any reason not to divert them to the lab despite that Father was unavailable to oversee his work. Perhaps it would be a surprise, after all, although DUM-E did not believe himself entirely capable of the planning and timing to generate a surprise on purpose. But a happy accident was acceptable in lieu.

When the materials arrived, he cleared a space on the workbench, cautious to move only those materials which Father had finished using, then placed his ten boxes on the bench and methodically opened each, all in a neat row.

Then he overturned each box, one by one.

This was the point at which the trouble started. None of it had been anticipated, but DUM-E realized quickly that he ought to have spent additional resources on research. That in fact, his initial research had been sorely inadequate, and that as was the case distressingly often, his project might not succeed. However, he was persistent (one of his best traits!) and he opted so continue despite the following series of events.

First, it became clear to him that SPAM arrived packed in lubricant. He applied the usual oozing-lubricant remedy; after first checking to be sure that the excess was not seeping from a hole or tear, he pressed and wiped with a towel.

Second, he realized that SPAM was not sturdy enough for vigorous wiping.

Third, he observed that vigorous SPAM-wiping had left a thick layer of undifferentiated SPAM atop the workbench.

Fourth, as he did not know a different solution for lubricant-leakage, he began to panic, since reducing all ten shiny blobs of SPAM to paste was unacceptable, as was leaving them all to drip.

He retreated from the table for a moment to consider his options.

After nineteen seconds, he recalled an occasion on which Father's Important Human had offered to share her excess lubricant with Father, after which she had smeared a substance comprised of various vegetable and mineral oils and water on his hands from her own, rubbing it in.

Perhaps this was his solution.

He searched the lab for a suction device and a beaker. Upon finding them, he carefully slurped up the lubricant one area at a time, squirting it into the beaker, then poured the beaker onto his own joints. This solved the problem adequately, but introduced a new problem once he addressed the joints of his articulated arm and hand: DUM-E was too slippery to hold the beaker, and when he subsequently lifted it, he dropped it on the floor, shattering it under his wheels.

He tried to estimate the result of cleaning up the new mess with a towel; however, he was unable to gain traction to retrieve a fresh one, and the one he had was covered with SPAM paste.

DUM-E slumped dejectedly, deciding that would have to wait, and, in order to make the best of the situation, turned to considering the nine remaining cubes of SPAM.

None of them looked like robots; however, DUM-E did have a number of wrenches, screwdrivers, and drills in reach.

He picked up a wrench and dropped it on SPAM #2.

SPAM #2 now looked even less like a robot, although it did appear to hold an impression fairly well. DUM-E wiped his graspers on the paste-covered towel and retrieved the wrench. SPAM #2 came with it. He placed both on top of SPAM #3.

He considered his work, then shoved it a bit more to the side and scooted SPAM #4 next to SPAM #3, balancing SPAM #2 such that its midpoint rested over the gap between the other two. He examined his work critically. Well. He supposed a pyramid was slightly more robot like than a series of cubes. Sort of like feet, which Father and his Important Human both possessed, so that was promising. He placed SPAM #5 atop SPAM #2, then piled #6 and #7 to the left, and #8 and $9 to the right. Then he turned to #10 and tried to decide how to incorporate it. He would work out the attachment mechanism for the arms later.

"JARVIS?" Father's voice said from the doorway. DUM-E froze in his contemplation.

"Master."

"Has DUM-E received any, say, messages about Devil's Tower?"

"To my knowledge, he has not. He has, however, developed a marked interest in Spam since your comment earlier regarding spam robot challenges. My analysis suggests he did not consider the electronic usage of the term, and is working to built a robot out of Spam."

Father sighed and crossed his arms. "DUM-E, are you trying to build me a robot out of Spam?"

DUM-E slouched. He felt silly, because as soon as JARVIS said it, the meaning of the phrase came to him. He wished he had a grasper that wasn't covered in SPAM paste so that he could smack his tiny brain with it somehow.

Father crouched down and started wiping off excess lubricant with a fresh towel, then grimaced and gave up, standing to look at DUM-E's creation. "Well, as Spam robots go, it's pretty good," he said. DUM-E stood a little taller. "Although if you want to build something, I'm going to suggest you stay out of the organics. Kind of messy."

DUM-E did have to agree with that. He chirped and looked longingly at the pile of scraps in the corner.

"Yeah, all right, fine, you can have some new toys," Father said. "After we steam clean this off you."

DUM-E tried to roll back in alarm, instead slipping in the goo and remaining in place.

"Oh, what, you've decided it's your new perfume? Well, fine. We'll keep you a bit to dab on your wrist, but first, steam-cleaning so you aren't too oiled to move. OK?"

DUM-E warbled a bit, then settled. He wondered whether Father was surprised, after all. At least that would mitigate the humiliation somewhat.

"Sir, DUM-E would like to know whether you are surprised," JARVIS said.

DUM-E whirred in protest, but Father patted him and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am surprised," he said, as he pulled DUM-E out of the puddle and toward maintenance. "Very. DUM-E, your robot is very creative. And definitely the best Spam robot I've ever seen. Not that most are really seen so much as encoded, but then, envisioning the process is sort of seeing them, and still yours wins. Good job."

DUM-E chittered to himself and considered what he might try next. Maybe he could offer some improvements to Father's lightbulb. He chittered more, and went into the steam chamber.


End file.
